The General's Secretary

by Debby Giusti

  Lillie held it up, trying to determine the initials set in gold. The first letter was almost completely missing, but the second looked like the letter T. GT, perhaps, for Georgia Tech?

  A bolt of lightning brightened the day. Thunder cracked, so strong it took her breath away. Her heart stopped for a long moment. She closed the box and jammed it in her closet.

  Her stomach roiled. An odor wafted past her and mixed with the earthy, musky scent of the approaching rain.

  Fear threaded through her veins.

  She couldn’t hide from the storm or from the smell of smoke. Lightning must have struck her house.

  “Fire,” she wanted to scream.

  Another crash of thunder.

  Unable to move forward, she huddled on the floor. As on that night so long ago, she saw the door to her mother’s room and heard the man’s voice closing her out.

  “No!” she screamed.

  “Lillie.” Dawson’s voice sounded above the thunder. He wrapped her in his arms and guided her outside.

  A portion of her garage was scorched. A pile of smoldering pine straw had been pushed away from the structure.

  Glancing up, she saw that someone had written terrible slurs and disparaging names with spray paint across the side of her garage. Why hadn’t she noticed them earlier when she had parked in the driveway?

  Lillie looked at Dawson, not understanding what had happened. “The lightning hit the house?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t lightning. Someone used gasoline. I must have scared him off before the fire took hold. The water hose was close by.”

  Suddenly things weren’t making sense. “How...how did you know...?”

  “You left a message on my phone.”

  She glanced at her own cell. “But you didn’t return my call.”

  “I was driving as fast as I could, Lillie. Why did you come back here? I told you to be careful.”

  Lillie pulled something from her pocket. Opening her hand, she looked down at the broken cuff link with the letters she had thought were GT for Georgia Tech. In the light of day, she realized the second letter could be an F.

  Dawson had arrived just as the fire had started. Or had he started the fire to convince her she was in danger?

  “I’ll call the police and let them know what happened,” she said, digging in her purse for her cell.

  He shook his head, his eyes dark. “The fire’s out. We need to get back to post, where you’ll be safe. I’ll call Pritchard on the way.”

  A feeling of dread swept over her. Her ears rang a warning as she glanced down at the cuff link.

  GF. Granger Ford.

  He wasn’t her mother’s lover. Lillie knew that without a shadow of a doubt. But he could have been her killer.

  Dawson was his father’s son. Karl Nelson’s words returned to haunt her. “Often the people we know best are the people who cause us the most pain.”

  Lillie had thought she could trust the CID agent, but she was wrong. Dawson had started the fire to prove his point about her need for safety.

  Since Granger was dead, if someone came after Lillie, people would think the killer was still on the loose.

  Which is exactly what Lillie had thought.

  Now she wasn’t sure who was trying to do her harm—a killer from the past, or a CID agent who seemed intent on clearing his father’s tarnished name?

  * * *

  Dawson followed Lillie back to post and knew she was upset about more than just the storm. She hadn’t told him why she had gone back to her house, but he wasn’t blind and had noticed the patriotic brooch she had pinned to her jacket.

  The pin looked old and valuable. Maybe it had belonged to Mrs. McKinney. Or Lillie could have bought it for herself. Then again, maybe an old boyfriend had given it to her as a gift. Dawson rubbed his right hand over his chin, trying not to envision Lillie with someone else.

  Surely there had been a line of men who wanted to court the pretty secretary, especially with all the single soldiers stationed on an army post. Had there been a very special person in her past? Maybe someone still in the military? Deployed? Returning soon?

  The more he considered the options, the more confused he became. He hadn’t seen photographs of a guy displayed in her home or on her desk at work. But with digital photography, most folks kept their pictures on their computers. While she was asleep the other night, he could have opened her photo file.

  Then he’d know.

  Although in reality, he didn’t want to know about any guys, and he would never intrude upon her privacy. What he was interested in was her safety and getting to the bottom of this investigation. Then both of them would go their separate ways. The thought of not seeing Lillie sent another wave of frustration that tightened his shoulders into a knot.

  Dawson reached for his cell and called the Freemont police. Once Sergeant Pritchard was on the line, Dawson filled him in on the fire and the graffiti written on Lillie’s garage.

  “I’m escorting Ms. Beaumont back to post.” Dawson glanced at his watch. “I’ll meet you at her house in thirty minutes. We need to talk.”

  By the time he pulled into the post headquarters parking lot, she was already on the sidewalk headed toward the building.

  “Lillie?” he called after her.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

  “I can’t, Dawson. I have too much work to do.”

  “You’ve got a room at the Lodge,” he reminded her, knowing how vulnerable she’d be if she returned to her house.

  “I’ll stay at the Lodge, but I won’t be available for dinner.” With that very definite rejection, she hurried up the steps and into the building.

  Dawson jammed a fist into his hand. How had things changed so quickly between them?

  He thought back to what had happened earlier. She’d been frightened by the thunder and had readily accepted his open arms as he’d helped her outside. Was she upset because he hadn’t called her on the way? A niggling voice that he couldn’t explain had insisted he needed to hurry. He hadn’t even thought about phoning her.

  His mistake.

  A mistake that seemed to have made a difference with Lillie. With so many things stacked between them, no wonder she wanted to call a halt to spending time together.

  Her dad had probably talked to her yesterday. He was worried about her safety and rightfully so. Dawson was as well.

  Only Dawson wasn’t the one she needed to fear. He glanced at the cars driving by the headquarters building. Someone was out there, waiting for Lillie.

  Even if she didn’t want his help, he would do everything to ensure she remained safe. Hopefully the case would break soon so Lillie could go on with her life.

  He didn’t want to say goodbye to Lillie. Not tomorrow or the next day or the day after that. Maybe not ever.

  FOURTEEN

  Sergeant Pritchard and two of his officers were searching the area around Lillie’s garage when Dawson parked in her driveway. Pulling in a deep breath, he stepped onto the pavement.

  After instructing his men to keep searching, Pritchard brushed off his hands and approached Dawson. “Looks like the killer may have returned to the scene of the crime.”

  “Lillie was inside at the time. I arrived just as the pine straw started to ignite. He must have run off into the woods.”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  Dawson shook his head. “I barely had time to grab the water hose and douse the flames.”

  “Had Ms. Beaumont heard anything?”

  “Thunder rumbled overhead, which probably drowned out any noise he might have made.”

  The cop held up two fingers. “The killer dropped the boulder on your car Saturday night and t
ried to burn her house today. Anything else I should know about?”

  Dawson explained about the key Granger had given Lillie, and the SUV that had tried to run her off the road and then followed her in Freemont.

  “We found a flash drive that had information Granger had uncovered, along with two videos he made shortly before his death. He wanted to get the information into the right hands in case something happened to him.”

  Pritchard narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t think I should know about the information?”

  “I wanted to ensure it was accurate. That’s why we went to Atlanta on Saturday.” Dawson explained about meeting with Leonard Simpson and his parents.

  The cop scratched his head. “Seems a stretch to think three prostitutes in Atlanta could tie in with Irene Beaumont’s death.”

  “Which is exactly why I wanted to ensure the information was accurate before I handed it off to you.”

  Pritchard seemed to accept the explanation. “You still should have told me about your relationship to Granger Ford.”

  “You’re right, but at the time I wasn’t ready to accept the fact myself. I’d closed him out of my life for so long and couldn’t find the gumption to acknowledge he was my father.”

  Pritchard looked into the distance and let out a ragged breath. “I don’t condone what you did, but I understand. Fact is, I never got along with my old man. He was a mean buzzard who hurt a lot of people, including my mother. If I found him dead on someone’s doorstep, I’d walk over his body and never look down. No way would I claim he was kin.”

  Dawson appreciated the cop’s candor. It was hard to admit bad blood in a family, especially when the family member was your dad. He continued to fill Pritchard in on what he had uncovered as well as the two local women who had been seen with Billy Everett. “His name keeps popping up.”

  “I’ll send out another BOLO for law enforcement in Georgia and the surrounding states to be on the lookout for Everett.”

  “Sounds good. As soon as I get back to my office, I’ll email the flash drive files to you.”

  The two men shook hands before Dawson climbed into his car and drove back to post. He and Pritchard had ironed out their differences, and Dawson felt sure they would be able to work together in the future.

  Once at his desk, he sent Pritchard the files and then placed a call to the guidance counselor at the local high school.

  “She’s tied up with testing this afternoon,” her secretary said.

  “Would you have her call me when she’s free?” Dawson asked. “I’m interested in Freemont High graduates who attended Georgia Tech twenty-five to thirty years ago.”

  “Records that old might be difficult to access.” The secretary stated the obvious.

  “Please, just pass on the request.”

  He left his name and phone number. Hopefully the counselor would return his call later in the day.

  Wanting to update the chief, Dawson tapped on Wilson’s door.

  “Enter.”

  “Sir, I met with Sergeant Pritchard and brought him up to date. He sent out a BOLO on Billy Everett, who, at the present time, is our only suspect. The Freemont police will keep us posted if anything new develops.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Dawson hesitated before finally asking, “Sir, have you heard anything from JAG?”

  “Not yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dawson wasn’t encouraged when he left the chief’s office. Everything seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace, and he was hanging in thin air when it came to Lillie and what the JAG Corps would determine. Dawson wanted the case resolved as soon as possible. Then he’d try to figure out his future, knowing without Lillie, the future looked anything but bright.

  * * *

  Lillie hurried into her office, determined to review the files on Granger’s flash drive. Dawson had been with her when she’d watched the video the first time. Feigning concern, the solicitous CID agent had even suggested she not watch the tape, which made her wonder if there was something Dawson hadn’t wanted her to see.

  Thinking back to that night, Lillie remembered her own internal struggle and how often she’d turned away from the screen unable to go on. What had she missed?

  She opened the bottom drawer on her desk where she had placed the flash drive, but the memory device wasn’t there. She searched through all the drawers. A cold suspicion took hold that Dawson had taken the flash drive without telling her.

  Lillie reached for her phone and tapped in his number.

  “Timmons.”

  His voice made her heart hitch, but she pushed aside the feeling. She had to be careful. Things weren’t always as they seemed and right now she couldn’t trust anyone. Especially not Dawson.

  “I wanted to relook at the files on the flash drive we viewed the other night, but I couldn’t find it in my desk. Did you take it?”

  “You put it in the bottom drawer.”

  Which was the first place she had looked.

  “Are you sure you don’t have the flash drive?” she asked again.

  “Lillie, I don’t know what happened today, but I’m not the bad guy. You can believe me when I tell you something. I don’t have the flash drive. However, I did forward the files to my computer. I can email you a copy if that would help.”

  “Have you deleted anything?”

  “Lillie, where’s this coming from? Did your father tell you to not trust me?”

  Her father had cautioned her to be careful, but he’d also said he liked Dawson. His main concern was for her own peace of mind. Eventually, he had told her to trust her instincts, which she was trying to do.

  “Just send me the files, Dawson.”

  As she hung up, Mark entered the office. He stopped, noting the papers and other items scattered over the top of her usually neat desk.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She waved her hand in the air, hoping to make light of the situation. “I can’t find a flash drive. I thought it was in my desk. Have you seen one lying around? It’s small, eight gigs, encased in blue enamel.”

  He shook his head. “But I’ll let you know if I find it.”

  “Was anyone hanging around the office this morning?”

  “Tom Reynolds stopped by. He wanted to talk to me about the gym on post.”

  “Did he touch anything on my desk?”

  “Of course not.” Mark pursed his lips. “I came in late Saturday morning and found Sergeant Howard Murphy looking out the window. He was the staff duty NCO and thought he saw the general’s car in the parking lot.”

  “General Cameron was out of town for the weekend, Mark. You knew his schedule, so why were you here?”

  The aide glanced down. “I got behind last week and wanted to catch up on some paperwork. The NCO said you and the CID agent had stayed at the office Friday night.”

  “Dawson didn’t think it was safe for me to return home. I’ve got a room at the Lodge for the next two days. He assures me I’ll be safer on post.”

  Mark nodded. “He’s probably right. I’ll be working late tonight. Call me if you have a problem. The Lodge isn’t far. I could get there in no time.”

  Lillie appreciated his offer. The cocky aide seemed to have come back down to earth. She felt better knowing he would be close at hand.

  When she checked into her room at the Lodge later that afternoon, Lillie knew she had a long night ahead of her. The last time she had opened Granger’s files, Dawson had been at her side, offering support. Only now she couldn’t depend on him, and just like when she was growing up, the only one she could depend on was herself.

  FIFTEEN

  Dawson wanted to knock on the door to Lillie’s room at the Lodge and demand to know what was bothering he
r. She had given him more than the cold shoulder earlier. In fact, he’d call it an arctic freeze. But bottom line, she didn’t want him around right now, so whether he liked it or not, he needed to give her space.

  The room he had reserved for Lillie was at the end of a long hallway on the second floor, away from the central stairway and other guests who might be going to and from their rooms. Dawson holed up across the hall with the door to his room cracked open so he could keep tabs on any activity in the hallway.

  Earlier he had alerted the military police to keep the area secure outside, and he was reasonably certain the night would be uneventful, at least from a safety angle. The only problem was he knew Lillie was right across the hall.

  Dawson ordered a pizza in hopes of wooing her out of her room with food. Forty-five minutes later, he glanced out the window and saw the delivery car pull up in front of the building.

  Footsteps sounded. Grabbing cash from his wallet, he stepped into the hallway only to find the general’s aide standing in front of Lillie’s door.

  The captain’s brow furrowed. “What are you doing here, Timmons?”

  Lillie’s door opened. She appeared surprised to see Mark, which gave Dawson a moment of relief, but when she glanced at Dawson, her surprise turned to confusion.

  “Evening, Lillie,” he said, hoping to deflect the question he saw in her eyes.

  “I found the flash drive.” Mark ignored Dawson and dropped the small memory stick into her outstretched hand.

  “Thanks. Where was it?”

  “Stuck in the corner of your inbox. I saw it when I was searching for the plans for the museum.”

  The delivery guy hustled toward Dawson with a pizza in hand, making an awkward moment even more complicated. Dawson paid the driver, who quickly scurried back to his car as if even he sensed the growing tension.

  Unwilling to let the general’s aide have the last word, Dawson forced a smile. “Hungry? I’ve got more pizza than I can eat.”

  Lillie glanced from Dawson to Mark and then back to Dawson again. He continued to hold the outstretched box of pizza, feeling like a third wheel. His hope was that the aide would get the hint and leave, although from the way Mark puffed out his chest and sidled closer to her room, Dawson could end up being the odd man out.